


Summer Stars

by silversparrow



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Adolescent Sexuality, Alternate Universe, Angst, Coming of Age, Fluff, Friendship, M/M, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 10:07:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4133511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silversparrow/pseuds/silversparrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall keeps his eyes on him, tracing out the outline of his forehead, the bridge of his nose, the curve of his lips, and suddenly, he feels his cheeks warming, something swelling deep inside his chest, and he can’t help but smile from ear to ear when he hears a voice whispering in the back of his head, clear as bells.</p><p>
  <i>I think I love this boy.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summer Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the movie _Hoje Eu Quero Voltar Sozinho_ , which I highly recommend.
> 
> For [kbeto](http://archiveofourown.org/users/kbeto/pseuds/kbeto) because he's literally the sweetest person alive.
> 
> [Plot outline](http://thesilversparrows.tumblr.com/post/121526875327/summer-stars-harry-niall-outline).

  
  
  


_**10.**_

Caroline places the bottle in the middle of the circle, eager eyes following every twitch of her fingers, breaths getting heavier, nervous, unsure.

The bottle clinks on the hardwood and Niall feels himself contracting, coiling like a snake, wrapping his arms around his legs, trying to ignore the sound of his heart beating against his ears. He looks around and sees eyes glinting in various shades—excitement, fear, confusion, apathy, and he’s not quite sure where he fits.

He brings his legs closer, anxiety bubbling just under his skin as he watches Caroline slithering back to her spot and crossing her legs, the slightest smirk stretching the corner of her lips. 

The music blares on from the speakers, an upbeat song from the era of disco balls and flared jeans, talking of love like they all did back then, back when it seemed like times were simpler, easier, and Niall can feel himself squirming, the floor getting more and more uncomfortable under him as the seconds ticked by. He wishes he didn’t know why he was so tense, so nervous, wishes that he can enjoy this game like everyone else did and he hates feeling like he’s always the odd one out, feeling like he wants to crawl underneath the floorboards the moment he gets the slightest bit of attention.

Then again, maybe he’d enjoy it more if _he_ hadn’t been there, sitting across from him, eyes greener than the plastic cup he’s holding in his impossibly long fingers, a silver paper plane dangling from around his neck.

“Next up,” Caroline suddenly declares, watching everyone with enthusiasm, dragging her eyes across the room to search out her next victim, and Niall feels his breath hitch against his throat when they land on him.

_Harry._

“Go on, Harry,” Caroline says, voice more demanding than encouraging, tossing her head to the bottle, and Niall feels his heart picking up speed. “Show them what you’ve got.”

Harry utters a small laugh and crawls on all fours to the bottle amidst hoots and hollers, delicate sighs from the girls fluttering their eyes at him, like it’s going to make a difference. Niall’s face is getting hotter now, sweat starting to prickle his forehead.

Harry places his hand on the bottle, fingernail tapping the neck, clinking sounds reverberating in Niall’s ears, and Niall trains his eyes on his feet, tracing out his shoelaces because he doesn’t want to see the look in Harry’s eyes, those impossibly green eyes.

Then there’s the sound of glass scraping against the floor and Niall closes his eyes and holds his breath, praying that the bottle won’t land on him.

He counts the seconds and tries to block out the giggling from Caroline’s mouth, and after what seems like an eternity, the bottle finally comes to a stop.

A palpable silence covers the room like a thick blanket, the music muffled in his ears, and when he opens his eyes, the first thing he sees is the bottle pointing straight at him.

His stomach drops and the room slowly comes alive with whispers and hushed laughter, the sound like spiders crawling on his skin, the hairs at the back of his head standing on end when he locks eyes with Harry, looking just as surprised as he is.

“Well, _this_ is quite a turn of events,” says Caroline, standing up with the largest grin on her face, and Niall looks at her helplessly, an animal caught in a trap.

The unluckiest boy on Earth.

“Welcome to your seven minutes in heaven, Niall.”

  


_**1.**_

Niall grips the box tight with a whisper of goodbye, soft sobs already making their way through his chest, and he reluctantly sets it on the calm waters, fingers lingering for a few more seconds before the waves pull it away. 

_It was just her time_ , his mother had told him, wrapping a white ribbon around the box as he watches with sad, red eyes, _she’s lived a long, happy life, and now it’s time for her to rest_.

He didn’t really understand it, couldn’t process why Jess had just stopped moving when she’d snuggled into bed with him only the night before, and he was so scared and confused then, doing everything he could to make her open her eyes. He’d burst into his parents’ room not long after, tears streaming down his face, words eaten by the sobs wracking his little body.

He hugs his legs close to his chest and he feels the tears pooling around his eyes again, and he buries his face in his knees and tries to stop himself from crying.

_“Hey.”_

The sound catches him by surprise and he looks up just in time to see someone taking a seat on the rock a few inches from him, curly brown hair playing in the wind.

Niall doesn’t recognize him at first, couldn’t see past the blurry circles and lines, but it doesn’t take him long to register those bright green eyes.

It’s Harry from class.

“What’s the matter?” Harry ventures to ask, and Niall takes a moment to wipe his eyes before training them back on the box floating a few feet away.

“Jess died today,” he answers. It feelt odd to hear it coming from his own lips, how it sounded so _final_ when he’s not even sure if he can accept it just yet.

“I’m sorry.”

Niall shakes his head and closes his eyes.

He and Harry had never talked much in school, Harry always surrounded by his friends. He was always laughing, though, Niall had noticed, always smiling, always so _happy_ , and he wonders if that was why everybody liked him so much.

They share a silence between them and Niall wipes his eyes again, trying to be strong, pretending that everything will be just fine, but the tears keep coming and it’s getting harder to catch his breath, and before he knows it, he’s crying again, shoulders shaking, lips trembling.

That’s when he feels Harry patting his back.

Soft, gentle pats, in the space between his shoulder blades, and he tenses up for a second, not sure how to react, but before he can fully acknowledge the action, Harry’s already pulled his hand away, as quick as it came.

Niall turns to him and they look at each other for a moment, listening to the lull of the water, the birds chirping overhead, and when he sees Harry smile, a smile that tells him it’s all going to be fine, he remembers right then why green is his favorite color in the world.

  


_**3.**_

“I can’t get it,” Harry says with a chuckle, fingers trying to find their proper position, and Niall laughs with him, getting up from his bed and walking over to him with a shake of his head. 

“You had it for a moment,” Niall says. “You just have to remember where your fingers are.”

Harry tries again and the chord is off-key, and Niall winces visibly, much to Harry’s amusement.

“Will you come show me again?”

Niall laughs because Harry’s grinning again, teeth pearly white and perfectly aligned, and he catches himself when he feels the gaze lingering a little _too_ long, scratching the back of his head with a grin of his own.

“Sure.”

He walks behind Harry and reaches his arms around his shoulders, chest almost touching Harry’s back but not quite, just a breath away, but it’s enough to tint his face a light shade of red.

“Alright,” he says, watching the veins on Harry’s hands as he closes his own over them, and he feels a jolt run down his spine the moment he feels Harry’s skin against his, so soft, so warm. He wonders how rough his own hands must feel, harsh and calloused, maybe like sandpaper, but he feels better when Harry makes no move to pull away from them.

“You’ve been playing for quite some time now, haven’t you?” Harry asks, his voice quiet. Niall smiles, enjoying the way his voice sounds so close to his ears, smooth and dark-brown, just like honey.

“Since I was eleven.”

He nudges Harry’s fingers to the starting position one by one and he can feel his breaths getting heavier, heart starting to pick up speed. He takes a small step back when he feels his chest touching the back of Harry’s shirt, but he keeps his head close, just hovering above his shoulder.

“You’re so good at this,” Harry says, and Niall feels that he might be _too_ close, that maybe he’s breaking some sort of unseen boundary between them, a glass wall he’s just passing through, but he can’t bring himself to pull away, not when he knows that Harry’s lips are just a second away.

Harry’s head makes the slightest movement and for a moment, Niall thinks it’s about to happen, butterflies exploding to life in the pit of his stomach, and his heart is thrashing now, blood pooling under the skin around his cheeks.

But the moment ends when the door opens, and he jumps back in one quick motion and sees his mother poking her head inside, hand still on the doorknob, watching them with a smile.

“Harry, would you join us for supper? The table’s set downstairs.”

“I’d love to!” Harry replies excitedly, and when Niall meets his eyes, he bursts into laughter.

  


_**7.**_

Niall stands still in the middle of the courtyard, hands gripping the straps of his bag like he’s holding on for dear life. 

Everyone rushes past him in a blur, just shadows passing through, no real purpose, no destination, but he can’t move his feet, can’t muster up the courage to take a step, _any_ step, doesn’t matter where, just so he’s not standing like a statue waiting for time to crumble him into dust.

Harry’s sitting on a bench across the way from him, his necklace glinting in the sunlight, the wind and a hand fighting for domination on who gets to play with his hair. It takes Niall only a second to recognize the owner of that hand, fingers long and slender, like a ghostly pale branch digging into Harry’s skull.

Caroline laughs sweetly and twists his hair between her fingers, and even from the distance, Niall can make out the unmistakable look of adoration in her eyes, the same one he’s been trying to hide from Harry ever since that night, maybe even that first time he felt those soft, gentle hands patting his back in condolence, the kindness in his green, green eyes.

He feels an emptiness starting to spread in his chest and his mouth starts to dry. 

Harry’s smiling too much, responding too well to Caroline’s touches and maybe he’s an idiot, he’s _always_ been an idiot, had his head preoccupied with stupid fantasies about Harry and his voice and his touch and he sees that now, sees who he is, sees exactly where he stands.

But he can’t help but feel like there’s a knife lodged in his chest, going deeper and deeper with every touch on Harry’s skin until he can feel the metal scraping his bones, filing them to a needle’s point, and he grips the straps tighter and tighter still, so tight his knuckles have started turned white.

When Caroline places a kiss on Harry’s cheek, that’s when Niall has had enough, and he swallows the lump in his throat and turns the other way, his feet taking him to the other side of the courtyard and into the hallways, trying to avoid people’s eyes when he feels the wetness beginning to pool around his.

  


_**2.**_

Niall looks up from his guitar when the doorbell rings. 

_“Sweetie, would you get the door?”_ he hears his mother call out from the kitchen, the smell of spices hanging in the air, and Niall places the guitar next to him on the sofa and hops onto his feet.

“Coming!” he says, taking quick steps over to the door, and when he swings it open, he almost hops back in surprise.

There’s Harry standing on the welcome mat, face and arms covered with dirt, wet hair clinging to his forehead in well-defined curls.

“Hey,” Harry says, smile as wide as ever despite the dirt smudged all over his cheeks. Niall furrows his brows, trying to process the image in front of him.

“What happened to you?”

Harry laughs and scratches the back of his head, looking down at his feet.

Niall doesn’t know much about Harry, having talked with him only a handful of times since Jess’s funeral, and even less so before then, but he has to admit that _this_ , appearing in front of someone’s door looking like he’d just dug himself out of the ground, is quite an odd thing to do.

“I, er, I have something for you,” Harry responds, smile getting wider, and Niall starts to feel warm inside, mind racing a hundred miles an hour, trying hard to figure this boy out.

He watches Harry bend down and pick up a box sitting next to his feet, and when their eyes meet again, Harry holds it out in front of him, face filled with excitement.

Niall hesitates for a moment, studying the look on Harry’s face to see if the whole thing is a joke, but Harry’s expression seems genuine, his green, green eyes eager and waiting, the box nestled carefully between his fingers.

Niall eventually gives in after a while and slides the box from Harry’s hand, their fingers touching for a split second, but it’s enough to send Niall’s heart racing.

The box is light, all of the weight contained in a single spot in the center, and, after looking at Harry one last time, he opens the lid and finds a small ball of fur, grey with streaks of black. He’s about to open his mouth to ask what it is when the ball starts to move, and the next second, he finds himself looking at the face of a kitten, eyes still closed, nose upturned, trying to make sense of the world around it.

“I heard it when I was around the lake earlier,” Harry says, and Niall looks up, his eyes starting to ring with red. “I couldn’t find the mum and I thought it needed someone to take care of it. And I thought of you.”

Niall brings his eyes back to the kitten, small paws padding around the box, stumbling every now and then, and he reaches a finger to pet its head, gentle strokes in the space between its ears.

The kitten responds and lets out the tiniest of mewls, and when Niall turns back to Harry, he feels a swelling in his chest, and he wipes his eyes with the widest smile before he lets the tears fall again.

  


_**6.**_

The sun has set and Niall watches as Caroline and her friends jump out of the pool and reach for their towels, laughing and pushing each other as they make their way back inside the house, the music still blaring in the distance, strobe lights still dancing behind the curtains. 

“You guys coming?” Caroline calls out, looking over her shoulder, drying her hair.

“I’ll stay in for a little while longer,” Harry replies, falling onto his back on the water and floating away. Niall takes a look at him before turning back to Caroline and shaking his head.

“I’ll be there in a bit.”

“Suit yourselves,” Caroline says, a smile playing on her lips, and she hooks her arms around one of her girlfriends, skipping the whole way until they reached the door.

When the door closes for the last time, the area is deserted, the warm lights around the edge of the pool bringing the water to life.

Niall looks up at the sky and listens to Harry’s soft splashes, the water lapping gently at his skin. The stars have just begun to come out, tiny pinpricks twinkling just overhead, and for a second, he’s back to that night, back with Harry and the constellations, and he can’t help but smile.

“Nice out here, yeah?” Harry asks. Niall turns to look at him and nods.

There’s a moment of silence and Harry takes this time to swim back to Niall, long arms paddling through the water like he was built for it, and Niall watches the muscles working under the skin of his back, the wet curls of his hair, the smile that never goes away.

“You don’t have to stay here with me, you know,” Harry says, stopping just a few inches away and splashing Niall playfully. Niall laughs and splashes back.

“I want to. I barely know anyone back there.”

“That’s not true. That girl Barbara’s been trying to get your attention all day.”

Niall only shrugs and lies back on the water. “I’m not interested.”

Harry laughs.

“Why not? She’s a right fit bird.”

Niall can feel warmth starting to spread across his face and he smiles, getting back on his feet and turning away from Harry.

“I’ve already got my eyes on someone.”

“Really? Do tell!” Harry says, excitement coating every word, and before Niall can turn back to Harry, he’s already a few inches away, watching him with those green eyes that seem to glow under the fluorescent light.

“I, er, I don’t really want to talk about it,” Niall says, looking down at his feet, heart beating faster, swelling against his ribcage, desperately wishing he could take the statement back.

“Come on, you can tell me,” Harry persists, getting closer to him, and Niall’s heart is thrashing now, his face red-hot at their closeness, but Harry keeps at him with those eyes, that smile, and it all comes crashing down on him in the blink of an eye—the pats on the back, the endless laughter, the sound of Harry’s breath, the smell of his hair, the warmth of his hand, and for a moment, the world around him stops.

And that’s when he kisses him.

It was a just quick peck, their lips touching for a fraction of a second but it’s enough to send Niall’s mind reeling, his heart practically bursting out of his chest, and when he pulls back to look at Harry, the world comes rushing back into motion, knocking the wind right out of him.

His stomach drops when he sees the expression on Harry’s face.

“I—I’m—” Harry mumbles, a look of shock and confusion washing over his face, and Niall can feel his heart sinking lower and lower into the ground beneath his feet, waiting patiently for Harry to say something, _anything_.

But Harry doesn’t say anything else and he looks at Niall one last time with those dim green eyes before turning around and pulling himself out of the water, picking up his towel and wrapping it around his shoulders as he makes his way towards the house.

Niall watches helplessly as he disappears behind the door, the silence scraping his body raw, sandpaper to an open wound, and he curses himself and buries his face in his hands because he never thought he’d see the day when Harry stopped smiling.

  


_**5.**_

“Mum’s going to _kill_ me,” Niall whispers, following Harry close behind. 

The night covers them like a blanket, Harry’s body barely visible despite their distance, and Niall tries to fight back a yawn pushing its way out of his throat.

“It’ll be worth it, I promise,” Harry says, pushing past a low-hanging branch and taking the first few steps up the hill. Niall slides his hands further down his pockets and shuffles closer, the sound of twigs breaking under his shoes filling the air.

“What are you showing me, anyway?”

Harry doesn’t answer. He keeps walking, holding his head low as he makes his way up, grass crunching under his feet, and Niall follows a step or two away, trying to make sure he doesn’t trip on anything.

A moment later, Harry stops without warning, and Niall crashes into his back with a grunt, but Harry’s hand is there just in time to keep him from falling back.

“Alright?” Harry asks, gripping Niall’s shoulder tight, and Niall looks at him with a nod, a smile starting to play on his lips.

“What’s here?”

Harry takes his hand off with a grin, and he turns back to the top of the hill, lifting his arm and pointing at the sky.

“That.”

Niall takes a step to stand beside him and follows his finger, eyes widening in wonder when he sees the largest collection of stars he’s ever seen, tiny balls of light spread out over the horizon, glittering like so many diamonds. For a second, he forgets to breathe.

“Come on,” Harry says, pulling him out of his stupor, and the next thing he sees is Harry standing at the top of the hill, stretching his arms high into the air with a deep sigh. He follows suit and before long, Harry’s lying down on the ground, hands behind his head, the blades of grass threading through his curls.

He lies down, too, their shoulders just a hand’s width apart, the cold ground prickling the back of his head.

“Pretty, innit?”

Niall smiles. “It’s beautiful.”

The stars seem infinite, almost impossible to comprehend, and he makes out the pale red strip of a distant galaxy just beyond the corner of his eye.

“You see that group of stars over there?” Harry asks, voice just above a whisper, pointing his finger directly overhead. “The one that looks like a giant spoon?”

It takes Niall a moment to find it, wondering to himself how anybody could manage to map out constellations out of a million, billion stars.

“I think I see it.”

“That one’s called the ‘Big Dipper.’ It’s part of the Ursa Major constellation.”

Niall raises his brows, impressed.

“You know a lot about this stuff, don’t you?” he asks with a laugh, shifting his eyes to Harry.

Harry brings his hands down to rest at his sides and utters a laugh of his own.

“I’ve always liked space,” he says, turning to look at Niall with a smile. “Really puts things into perspective.”

“Like how everything doesn’t matter?” Niall asks with a smirk, and Harry nudges his arm with his elbow before turning back to the sky.

“Like how everything’s connected. That we’re all just a part of this bigger thing. That everything happens for a reason.”

Niall keeps his eyes on him, tracing out the outline of his forehead, the bridge of his nose, the curve of his lips, and suddenly, he feels his cheeks warming, something swelling deep inside his chest, and he can’t help but smile from ear to ear when he hears a voice whispering in the back of his head, clear as bells.

_I think I love this boy._

  


_**8.**_

“You’ve hardly touched your food, love.” 

Niall looks up from his plate with a sigh and leans back in his seat, looking at his mother with heavy eyes.

“I’m not very hungry,” he replies with a shrug.

“You weren’t very hungry this morning, either. What’s going on?”

He picks up his fork and stabs at his cold mashed potatoes, giving another shrug. He doesn’t feel like talking, doesn’t really have the energy to humor her with a conversation because the wound is still too raw, opened past the point of healing, and he wishes he can just sleep the feeling away just like everything else.

“I’m just not hungry.”

His mother’s not convinced, though, and she puts her utensils down and gets a proper look at him, eyes trying to bore a hole through his skull, trying to figure him out.

“Does it have something to do with Harry?” she asks, and the sound of Harry’s name sends a jolt down his spine, right down to his toes. “He hasn’t come over in a while. Did anything happen between you two?”

“Nothing happened,” he says pointedly, almost like a reflex, and he leans forward and rests his elbows on the table, hunching over his plate with furrowed brows.

All of a sudden, there’s a gnawing deep in his bones, something like guilt starting to eat away at him and he shakes his head, trying to convince himself that it’s all in his head.

It was just a _mistake_ , he tells himself, a simple lapse of judgment, a momentary loss of self-control, something that can happen to anyone just as easily as it did to him. It was in the spur of the moment, something unplanned, completely out of his hands. An accident, a complete and utter disaster.

But no matter how he spins it, he _knows_ , knows for a fact that it’s all his fault, that he’s the only one to blame for breaking a boundary he should never have crossed.

And now he has to deal with the consequences.

“Niall, please talk to me,” his mother says, but he doesn’t want to talk, not about _him_ , and he slides his chair back and gets to his feet without another word.

He turns around and sees Jessie cleaning her grey fur against the wall in the hallway, and he heaves a deep sigh before walking past her towards his room and slamming the door behind him.

  


_**4.**_

Niall carefully scoops up a sleeping Jessie in his arms and gently lays her down on the floor near the foot of his bed, giving her a quick kiss on the forehead before standing up and stretching his arms in the air. 

It’s been a few hours since Harry had gone home but his presence is still fresh in his mind, an image playing in the back of his head on a loop. He can still smell the lavender in his hair, see the dimples poking in his cheeks, feel the pulsing of the veins on the back of his hand when he showed him how to play the guitar, and it’s an odd feeling, he thinks, almost like the ghost of longing spreading inside his chest.

But he doesn’t miss Harry, of course. No, that would be silly.

They’re just friends, after all.

He sighs and sits on the edge of his bed and stares at the wall opposite him, looking at nothing in particular, trying to get the images out of his head before he goes to sleep.

He’s had dreams about Harry, many dreams about him, dreams about romantic dates and marriages and settling down in houses with white picket fences, and dreams about the feeling of their bodies pressed against each other, hungry hands scoping every inch of his skin, tracing around it like a map of stars and drawing constellations in the dips on his stomach.

He covers his face with his hands and falls backward on his bed, smiling, face getting warmer at the thought.

He feels like a bloody idiot with his schoolyard crush and embarrassing dreams, infatuated with this boy beyond his control, and he wishes it were only a phase, something he’ll grow out of in a few days, weeks, maybe months. But it doesn’t sound convincing, even coming from his own head, and he feels like this infatuation might run deeper than he thinks, with a weight behind it that might be too heavy to carry.

He drops his hands to his sides and groans. He feels like he wants to scream. He turns over to his side and reaches for a pillow, but not before seeing the crumpled sleeve of a sweater that does not belong to him.

A sweater that belongs to Harry.

He sits up and gathers it in his hands, feeling the softness of the fabric between his fingers. Harry must have left it earlier, when he needed to head home after a call from his mother.

He smiles and lifts it to his nose, inhaling the scent.

It feels wrong, somehow, some kind of moral dilemma, but he can’t bring himself to stop. He inhales again, his head filling with images of Harry’s hair, his arms, his eyes until he’s drowning in it, drowning in the faint smell of his cologne, of his body.

He sits up and reaches over to turn off the lamp on the table, and he sits in the darkness for a moment, clutching the sweater against his heart.

Taking a deep breath, he pulls his shirt over his head and throws it on the floor, kicking off his underwear not long after. He slides his blanket off the bed and bunches it in the corner against the wall, and he gently lays his head on the pillow.

He closes his eyes and spreads the sweater around him, tucking the ends of the sleeves behind his neck and stretching the body until it covered the area below his stomach.

The smell envelops him like a well-worn sheet and he feels safe, and he tries to fight the hammering in his chest and the grin on his face as he drifts off to sleep.

  


_**9.**_

Niall’s late for class and he’s rushing like a madman through the courtyard, gripping the straps of his bag tight as he darts around groups of students taking their leisurely time. 

He was so sure he’d set his alarm the night before like he always does, and he did find it odd that his mum didn’t try to wake him up when he didn’t show up at the table for breakfast. Then again, he _has_ been a bit withdrawn with her lately, withdrawn with everyone, really, so it shouldn’t come as such a surprise that she’d left him alone.

He curses himself as he passes through the doorway into the hallways, uttering quick bursts of apologies and trying his best not to bump into anyone because the last thing he needs is an altercation. He just needs to get to class.

When he rounds the bend, it takes him half a second to realize he’s going to collide with someone walking towards him, but his body doesn’t have enough time to listen and act and he crashes into the person’s chest, the impact pushing him a step back.

An apology already hangs in the tip of his tongue when he looks up to see who it is, but the words fall to the floor along with his stomach when he sees the unmistakable mess of hair, eyes as green as the grass outside.

“H—Harry,” he says before he can stop himself, and Harry looks at him with raised brows, surprised.

Tension fills the air and Niall feels uncomfortable, like he’s being suffocated by a damp towel and he can’t pry it off.

He looks at Harry for another second and for a moment, it seemed like Harry had something to say, an expectant look glinting in his eyes.

Niall braces himself and clutches his straps tighter, but the look in Harry’s eyes disappear in a flash, like he’s decided it wasn’t worth saying.

Instead, he looks down at his feet and walks past Niall without a single word.

Niall stands rooted at the spot while the world sped past him in a blur, and he looks over his shoulder and sees Harry stepping out into the light of the courtyard, his head hanging low.

He feels a sharp blow in his ribcage and suddenly, it hurts to breathe.

He loosens his grip on the straps and he feels himself falling apart.

  


_**11.**_

Being this close to Harry usually gave Niall a different kind of feeling. 

He remembers the fluttering in his stomach whenever he would catch Harry’s eyes, the soft pitter-patter of his heart when he’d feel Harry’s arms around his shoulders, and it seems like forever ago that he’s heard his voice, heard the sound of his name tumbling from his tongue in a raspy drawl.

He misses those days, back when things were simple, back when the biggest thing he’d worry about was when he would see Harry next, before things came crashing down in the blink of an eye.

Now, it’s like there’s a rope tied tight around his chest and the tension in the air feels like tar in his lungs, coating the inner linings like plaster piled on layer after layer, and all of a sudden, it gets harder to breathe.

The pounding in his temple is getting stronger and the air is thinning out in the closet at an alarming rate, and he tries to count down the seconds in his head, compressing himself into a tiny ball and trying to keep as much distance as he can from Harry.

He’s not sure what to think, how to feel. His emotions are too mixed up to differentiate properly and he’s scared and confused, his stomach sinking lower and lower with each passing second.

Harry shifts and Niall tenses up, keeping his legs close to his body like he’s afraid they’ll go missing. At forty seconds, Harry clears his throat and scratches the back of his neck.

_“Niall?”_

The sound sends a jolt down his spine, right through his fingertips.

Harry’s voice is breathy and soft, _too_ soft, like a thin pane of glass a hair away from shattering, and at first, Niall wonders if he’d just hallucinated it, played a stray memory in the back of his mind like a broken projector.

“I’ve been terrible lately, I know that. And if you don’t want to talk to me, I understand.”

Niall holds his breath and keeps counting.

“I’ve been—I don’t know. I’ve been trying to figure it all out. Trying to come up with reasons. Excuses. I’ve—I’ve been trying to convince myself it doesn’t make any sense, that I’m just confused. Maybe a little scared. Maybe both.”

Niall closes his eyes and exhales slowly, hugging his legs tighter, the pressure getting heavier in his chest.

“I don’t even know what I’m scared of, really. Scared of what people might think? My parents? My friends? I don’t know. Maybe it’s a whole different thing and I’m just too stupid to figure it out. And I’ve been stupid lately, _very_ stupid, I’m sure you’ll agree.”

Niall tries to stop himself from smiling. Harry’s not the only one.

“But I think I know now. I’ve been running away. It’s that simple. That night in the pool, I was confused and unsure. I ran away. I thought it would solve the problem. Maybe if I’d just ignored it, you know, pretended it wasn’t there, it would all just work out in the end. But it only made the problem bigger. Stronger. And there came a point when I just couldn’t ignore it anymore.”

Niall opens his eyes and he feels his face heating up, his heart starting to race.

“I think I’m in love with you, Ni.”

The world stops and Niall turns to Harry with wide eyes, heart crashing against his ribcage, threatening to burst through his chest.

Harry’s looking back at him and Niall wishes they hadn’t been in the closet, hadn’t been in the darkness because the only things he wants to see are his smile and his green, green eyes.

Harry lifts his fingers to his chin and he’s almost forgotten how it feels, the warmth of his skin, gentle and familiar, and he closes his eyes and holds on to Harry’s arms like he’s afraid of floating away.

And when Harry presses his lips against his, the world starts moving again, and he slides his arms around Harry’s neck and presses back.

Just then, the door opens without warning and light floods in the closet in one brilliant wave, and Niall breaks the kiss to shield his eyes with the back of his hand.

In a second, there’s gasps and exclamations of surprise, ringing loud over the music blaring from the speakers, and when Niall lowers his hand and blinks his eyes open, he sees Caroline standing in front of them with her eyes nearly popping out of their sockets, hand still gripping the doorknob.

Niall can’t help but feel a grin breaking out.

Seven minutes of heaven indeed.

  


_**12.**_

“That one’s the ‘Little Dipper.’ Part of Ursa Minor.” 

Niall traces the shape in the air with his forefinger and he feels Harry’s laugh reverberating in his chest.

“You’ve done your homework, haven’t you?” Harry says, running his fingers through Niall’s hair, and Niall only shrugs and drops his hand back to his stomach, right on top of Harry’s.

“Don’t be too impressed because that’s the only other one I know.”

Harry laughs again and it sounds good in Niall’s ears.

“The stars look pretty tonight,” he says, rubbing the back of Harry’s hand with his thumb.

“ _You_ look pretty tonight,” Harry replies, kissing the top of his head.

At that moment, he feels like luckiest boy on Earth.

He links their fingers together, closes his eyes, and smiles.


End file.
